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“You want me to keep showing up every night? You need to take care of yourself.”

And then he had to go and say that.

“That’s emotional manipulation,” I mumble into my pillow. I crave his continued visits more than pretty much anything else in my life at the moment.

“Deal with it.”

I turn my face to the side and grimace at him. “You’re mean.” He also looks hot enough to catch fire in a Metallica shirt that hugs his muscles and a pair of black jeans, his white blond hair tied back from his face.

He folds his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side. “You’re just now figuring this out, cherub?”

No, I had him pegged from day one, but since meeting him, he’s softened up to me.

“Now,” he continues, “up.”

To emphasize his point, my bed begins to tilt, one side levitating. I start to slide off the mattress.

I curse, clutching the edges of it so that I don’t roll right off. “Alright, alright! I’m getting up!” I slide the rest of the way to the floor, glaring at him as I pad across the room.

Des folds his arms, glaring right back at me. The man is remorseless.

I open my drawers and begin removing clothing items. I move slowly, my eyelids still droopy, my body still tired and sore.

“This is never going to happen again, understand?” he says. “You’re not going to stop living your life because some days are harder than others.”

I look over my shoulder at him like he’s crazy. “It’s not like I want this!” For my mind to suck me back into the worst parts of my past. To feel dirty and tainted and unlovable.

Even my annoyance is a pitiful thing right now. I don’t have the energy it takes to truly get worked up over this.

“You feel like this again, you get help, or you call me andI’llget you help, but from now on, you’re going to dosomethingabout it, alright?” Des says. His eyes are hard; I’m not going to get any sympathy from him.

“You don’t understand—”

“I don’t?” He raises his eyebrows. “Tell me, cherub, whatdoI know?”

He’s baiting me. It’s so obvious. I don’t dare go on because how much do I really know about the Bargainer? And how much does he really know about me?

So instead, I glare at him again.

“Yes,” he says, “That’s what I want to see. Your anger, your fight.” His tone softens. “I’m not asking you to never feel sad, Callie, I’m asking you to fight. Always fight. You can do that, can’t you?”

I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t know,” I say honestly.

His entire demeanor gentles with that confession. “Can you try?”

I bite my lower lip, then reluctantly nod. If that’s what it takes to keep him coming back, I can try.

He gives me a smile. “Good. Now get dressed. I’ll get us breakfast before you have to go to class.”

Des spends the rest of our odd morning together doing everything in his power to make me laugh. And it works.

I don’t know how he does it, but the Bargainer beats back my mood. As far as Hail Mary days ago, apparently Des is just miracle I need.

Present

When I blinkmy eyes open, I stare up at an unfamiliar room. I look around at the deep blue walls, my brow creasing.

“You’re awake.”